PS 1819 


jxtiyii : " 


vv' Z IV 'i V --«:rV-.j^{ ■ \ i.TiiN'^'u. 


.H572 






Copy 1 


K • 


PURSE : 

i 


l""" 


rib 


J. 


A Comedy in Two Acts 






BY ' ! 

i 


i 
1 


THEODORE HARRIS | 

i 




Dr<i7nat'fzed 


from Balzac'st ''La Bonrsr.'' 
.< 

i 

/ 


'i 

i 




CHICAGO: 


THE DRAMxVriC PUBLISHING COMPANY. 



THE ART OF ACTING 



BY 



Henry Irving, 



This vrell-known address lo the students o( Harvard Voi- 
versily, now reprinted with the express permission of 3Ir. 
Irving, called forth extended comment and universal approba- 
tion. It is believed to be the best brief exposition of the actor's 
art— the art of which Mr. Irving is the most eminent representa- 
tive in the world. Every person interested in the stage should 
read this little book. To the actor and amateur it is indis- 
pensable. 

*'In appearing oefore the academic hody uf Harvurd Univernity, Mr. 
Irving occupied a unique position. He was the first actor to receive aca- 
demic honors in the chief center of American culture. It was natural that he 
Hhoiild choose ae the theme of his address the art to which his life has been 
devoted, and to which he has rendered nxich good service. The students 
listened to his exposition of the requirements and practice of his art with 
profound interest. If any of them ever go on the stage, and fail to attain 
distinction, they will not be able to conaplain that hie lights misled them." 

— The Th«atre, London. May, 1885. 



Frioe 25 oents. 



THE PURSE 



A Comedy in Two Acts 



THEODORE HARRIS 



Dramatized from BnUnr'''fi '■'-La Bourse. 



/ 



3avi^ 



^ 



CHICAGO: 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY. 



THE PURSE. 



CHAPxACTERS. 

HiPPOLYTE DE NeUVILLE, (t)l artist. 
GENERAIi KeUGAROUET, ) j,i - ^ . ,i t 

Count Du Halga, \ ^''''''^' ^' ^^" ^^'■■'^^^fP^eur,. 

Alphonse Latourette, ) 

Louis, |- Frien(Js to ile Neuville. 

EUGEiNE, ) 

A Waiter in a Cafe. 

Adelaide Leseigneur. 

Madame Leseigneur, mother to Addnide. 



Scene: Paris, in the reiiiii of Xapoleon L 

COSTUMES OF Tin; PKKIOi). 

Time in representation, one hour and forty minutes. 



Copyrieht, issr, l>y The Dramatic PrBLrsmxfj Company. 



THE Pr RSE. 



ACT I. 

SCENE 1. — Mada.mk LESEKiXEuirs apartnients in Hotel 
Gibraltar. 

\Enter Madame Leseigxeur and Adelaide.] 

A, Come, mamma, let us dress! It is almost time 
for our walk. See, what a beautiful day we have! The 
sun is shining brightly from the bluest of skies, and the 
air seems to distill a heavenly elixir! O these September 
days, mamma, are they not glorious? 

IVI. L. Ah, my child, September brings me at once the 
happiest and the saddest of memories. It was in Sep- 
tember I was married; in September, sixteen years ago, 
you were born; and in September, alas! your poor father 
was killed in battle. 

A. Dear papa! I am so proud of him! General 
Kergaronet always says to me, " Yes, my dear Adelaide, 
we fought like tigers that day! Three times we advanced, 
and three times we were repulsed. In the third attack, 
a German officer broke through my guard, and cut me 
this ugly scar, clean across my cheek — see, my dear! and 
a tall giant of a soldier had his bayonet within a foot of 
my throat — when up rushed your father, and cut! cut! — 
up with the bayonet! — down with the sword! — a thrust 
here! — a thrust there! — and both lay in a heap on the 
ground. Then forward he went like a lion — and — and — 
I saw him never again! — ah, my child! Since I can not 
pay the debt I owe to my dear, my honored friend — let 
me at least testify my gratitude to his daughter!" And 



4 THE PURSE. 

then the General sobs like a girl, mammal Is it noir 
strange that so brave a man should have so soft a heart? 
He is brave, because you know it was he who led the 
men on to the fourth charge and won the battle. 

M. L. Strange? No; how could it be otherwise! My 
old nurse used to sing" to me while I was yet a little 
child:- ^ ^ 

A brave heart and a tender heart, 

A staunch heart and a true : 
That is the one for you, my dove, 

That is the one for you. 

And though all my life I have lived among soldiers — 
I have never seen a brave man who was not tender- 
hearted; nor a coward that was not cruel. 

A. Well, the General is as soft-hearted as a woman, 
at any rate — the dear old hero! But do I not imitate 
him well, mamma? — his "cut! cut! up with the bayonet! 
down with the sword! — a thrust here! — a thrust there! — 
and both lay in a heap on the ground." If only you 
w^ould let me go on the stage! .Tust think, I might be- 
come a great actress! — and then wouldn't you have a 
grand chatteau, and horses and carriages, and servants — 
and — [.1 lo}<d crash heard in the room above.] 

M. L Mon Dieu, Adelaide! What was that? Some- 
body falling? 

" ■ "k 
was a groan! 

M. L. Let us gol Quick — he may be dying! 

[E.ceunt.] 

SCENE 2. — HippOLYTE DE Neuville's Studio; ])E 
Neuville discovered onthe floor., a step-ladder across 
his body., unconscious. 

\Enter Madame L. r^7i-'/ Adelaide.] 

M. L Our fears are true! Poor young man! The 
flask of spirits, Adelaide, hand it to me! 

A. Isn't he handsome, mamma? — so pale! See how 
his hair clusters about his forehead! What long eye- 
lashes! O misericordia! Here is a gash! It is bleeding! 
Look! O, what shall we do? 



THE PL' USE. cl 

M. L. Hush, mj childl — reach me a little water! 
Let us bathe his forehead! So! Now he recovers! 

{They draio back as he xoakes from his svjoon?^ 

HIppolyte. [Z>a.ief?, and icandering in his speech.] 
A little more and it will be done! Yes, I shall soon 
finish it. It will bring me, perhaps, five thousand francs. 
Think of it, Hippoljte de Xeuville! — and you only 
twenty- four! 

M. L. Mon Dieu, Adelaide; he is out of his head. 

[Aside:] 

H. Now, exit poverty — and enter fame and riches! 
What a gorgeous studio I shall have! And yet it will 
be hard to leave this little attic here — where I have had 
so many struggles — so many little triumphs — such jolly 
carousals — so m.uch of mingled tempest and sunshine. 
How do those lines of Beranger run: — 

"Willi pensive eyes tiie little room I view, 

Where in my youth I weathered it so long; 
With a gay sweetheart, a staunch friend or two — 

Filling each day with merry jest and song — 
Making a mock of life and all its cares, 

Rich in the glor}" of my rising sun, 
Li gilt jV I vaulted up four pair of stairs, 

In the brave days when I was twenty-one! " 

But what is this — blood? I am faint! What is the mat- 
ter with me? 

M. L. [Coming for loard.] Sir — you must be more 
quiet; — you must not exert yourself — you have had a 
fall. 

H. Madame Leseigneur! I am highly honored! — and 
Mademoiselle Adelaide too! Ladies — to what do I owe 
this unexpected pleasure? I am at your service — pray 
command me. Be seated, I beg of you. 

M. L It is you who must be seated, Monsieur de 
Neuville! You have had a fall — see, this step-ladder 
was across your breast when we came in. We heard a 
loud crash, and then^ groan — and we flew up stairs at 
once. 

H. Yes, now I remember! I was hanging a picture, 
and the ladder gave way all of a sudden — and down we 
came to the floor! 



G THE ITKSi:. 

A. O, Monsieur de Xeuvillel Let us find the picture T 
What if it should be ruined? 

H. Mademoiselle — you are too kind I It was only an 
old study I was hanging aloft out of the way. 

M. L. Come Adelaide — let us go — we left our door 
wide open — 

H. To hasten to me — 

A.. O that is nothing-! 

H. Pardon, mademoiselle, it is everything! — on my 
account, too! 

M. L. I will call the portress, sir; you may wish to 
send for a physician. 

H. Indeed, madame, do not trouble yourself — it is a 
trifle! I would have fallen from, the roof to have gained 
this acquaintance! 

M. L. Sir, you flatter us! 

H. May I not call to express my gratitude, madame? 
If you will permit it, I will avail myself of this intro- 
duction, and be more neighborly in future. So near, 
you know; my studio but one flight, and directly over 
your apartments. 

M. L. My daughter and I will be always glad to see 
you, ]\Ionsieur de IS'euville; and now, sir, let us bid you 
good day. 

A. Good day. Monsieur de Neuville. Pray accept 
this bottle of cologne-water, in case your head gives you 
trouble. 

H. My best thanks, mademoiselle! Ladies, wi re- 
voirl ' [Exeimi M. L. & A.] 

At last I have spoken to her, my angel! How modest 
she is! — and to think — maybe her little hand lay on my 
forehead! Ah, no wonder my brain was filled with 
sweet visions when I awoke! And it was this very 
morning that I resolved once more to follow them m their 
daily walk and find some means to introduce myself. 
Yet 1 would not have done it! How often have 1 fol- 
lowed them at a distance, and vainly endeavored to mus- 
ter the courage to speak! How often I have paused at 
their door, with m.y hand" raised to knock — and then fled 
at the slightest noise within! And at last you have 
spoken to her; you are invited to call! How her lianA 



TllK Pl'KSK. 



trembled — how sweetly she bhished when slio o-avo you 
this bottle! Ah princess, 1 am your devoted slave foi- 
evermore! But what — ^looking at W((tch\ hveo^cliH-kV 
And invited to dinner at six! What a coid'oundod boro! 
I will hurry through, — take my leave — and then ciill 
on the Leseigneurs. A whole evening of bliss befortN 
me! Quick, Hippolyte; make your toilet and be off! 

|AV,V.| 

SCENE 8. — Mada.mi-: I.'s <fparlnt<i/ds. AdelaidI'; di^'i- 
coverecl alu7i<\ 

A. Why did I tremljle so to-day when lie was near 
me! He could almost hear my heart beating! How 
stupid he must have thought me — I could say nothing— 
I who am always so loquacious — who cainiot utter the 
words quick enough, they fly so fast to my lips! To- 
night 1 will show him that maybe 1 am not sucfi a dull- 
ard as he thinks me! I will be gay, 1 will be witty — 1 
will talk — talk — talk. He shall not say a word exeept 
it slips in edgeways whilst 1 atn taking })r<}ath. ()li, 
how delightful it will be to have a young man to liKten to 
you! Instead of the General, and his dear, stupid old 
shadow, Count Du Halga, and my darling mamma — who 
always answer, "Yes, child" — "No, child"— "Hum! 
little one!" — and look a,t each other as if to say— "She 
will be wiser when she grows older — she is yet so young, 
you know!" I will now have some one who will say 
with deference and respect, " Do you think so, Mademoi- 
selle?" "I had not thought of that." " True, true,-^ 
what wisdom — what sagacity I" and so on! i wonder 
why mamma has never let me speak to any of the nice 
young men who follow us when we go to walk in the 
Park. She will not even let me nod and smile back! — 
I am sure they mean nothing but friendliness — they are 
so pleasant and well-bred. And now I am to have the 
best and handsomest of them all for a friend! And he 
will be a great man too, they say! Already decorated 
with the Lecrion of Honor! And I think he likes me; 
he could not take his eyes from me to-day; even when 
he talked to mamiaa, he looked at me! Ah, that is it! 



8 THE Pur.sE. 

that is the reason I trembled so, and blushed! am not 
used to being stared at so closely by one J know. Dear, 
dear, why^should young men be so nice? Why should 
we care more to have one for a friend, than^a girl? 
What is the difference? Let me see. As to looks, they 
wear moustaches and trousers — we, long hair and skirts! 
Their voices are rough and deep — ours are smooth and 
high; — they scent themselves with tobacco-smoke — we 
with musk; they fight with swords, w^e with tongues; 
they — but I might go on forever, and still be no nearer 
the truth! It must be because the good Heaven has 
willed it so. Yet I know this — that I had rather have 
liippolyte de Neuville come to-night than the nicest girl 
in all Paris! Yes, even than General Kergaronet, or the 
Count Du Halga! Why; now I think of it — I can even 
spare my dearest mamma, too! [A A'tiock.] 

What, so soon! That is he — I know by the way my 
heart beats! Dear me, I am, blushing, too! What shall 
1 say to him? Where have all my fine thoughts gone? 
Courage, Adelaide, courage! You must show him you 
are not the foolish child he took you to be this afternoon. 
\f<d?itli/\ Enter, Monsieur de Neuville! 

[E)lte7' HlPPOLY TE.] 

H. Good evening. Mademoiselle Adelaide! What, — 
did you know it was I? You could not see me, I did 
not speak — and ye£ — and yet — surely, I thought I heard 
my name! 

A. [ConAised.] Ah, monsieur! Yes! I knew — I felt 
— that is — I mean — my heart beat so fast — no! no! I 
do not mean that. Well! How did i/ou know I was 
here. Monsieur de Neuville? 

H. [J.5/f76.] What a sweet confession! What charm- 
ing embarrassment! [Aloicd.] Why, Mademoiselle, 
suppose I possessed the same infallible mieans? Suppose 
that whenever, for the past twelve months I have passed 
your door, my heart has quickened its pulse — my breath 
has almost left me — and my feet have become suddenly 
rooted to the ground, requiring with each new step the 
strength of a Hercules — what then! Do I not know the 
enchantress that has so worked upon me with her won- 



THE PURSE. 9 

drous arts? And whenever my being becomes suddenly 
perturbed and agitated — do I not know the source? Do 
I not divine who is near to me? 

A. O, no, Monsieur, you must not say this to me! My 
mother may not like it. 

H. Yes, your mother, that is well enough — but you^ 
Mademoiselle — yoit^ Adelaide — ah, you loill let me call 
you so? do you not like it? 

A. [^-IsiVFe.] Mon Dieu! What is this has happened! 
It should not be! And yet it is sweet — ah, so sweet! 
[Aloud.] Sir! Your head, does it not pain you after 
your fall? Did it not ache? [Aside.] Heavens! what 
if his accident should have aSected his brain, and he 
should not know what he is saying! 

H. .My head — no! But my heart, Adelaide — that 
has ached, oh! so sorely — you do not know! But why 
should we strive thus to conceal our feelings? It is a 
false sentiment, believe me! You have betrayed to me 
I)y a few words, that which has made me the happiest 
man in Paris to-night. Adelaide, you are mine! It is 
for you I have been working! For you that I won the 
grand prize and the Cross of the Legion of Honor! I 
shall have money, fame, and friends. O share them with 
me, dearest one! Without you they will be nothing. 
Speak Adelaide, — say you love me ! 

A. I — I — like you — very much — Hippolyte! Do 
not ask me for more now! Just think — we have only 
known each other to-day. 

H. For a whole year, my Adelaide, I have wor- 
shipped you from afar — have followed you in silence to 
church, and in your walks. It is not a sudden fancy, a 
mere passing whim! 

A. But how am J to know, Hippolyte, whether T am 
in love or not? I have never loved — never even spoken 
to a young man before — how can 7" tell? No, you must 
give me time! My mother has often said to me that a 
woman's heart is not like a man's. He leaps into the 
midst of an ardent passion at once: and alas that it 
should be so, Hippolyte! as easily leaps out again. But 
a woman grows to her love. It must be bud and blossom. 



10 THE rUKSE. 

ere it unfolds to the fruit! Here comes my mother I 
Quick, Hippolyte — your arm — take it away! 

[^Enter IMadame Leseigneur.] 

M. L. Welcome, Monsieur de Neuville! I am so 
glad you have had no serious results from your accident. 
Be seated, sir. Adelaide, how could you let him stand 
so loner? You have not even asked' him to lay aside hi& 
coat! No wonder you look so warm, I^Ionsieur, — and no 
wonder you are so confused, you naughty child! Where 
were your manners? You must pardon my daughter sir! 
Since the baron, my husband's death, we have lived so 
secluded. She is yet but a school girl! [yl kmocl:.'] 
Ah! there is your godfather, General Kergarouet and 
the Count Du Halga! Go, Adelaide, to meet them! 
[^Exit x\.] Old army friends of my husband's, sir. Each 
night we have a game of cards together. They are 
utterly inseparable! Wherever the one is, there you 
find the other also! In fact we call the Count the Gen- 
eral's shadow! He is so silent, so reserved; never ven- 
turing a remark — always echoing his friend. When the 
General laughs, the Count smiles. If he says, "Iti& 
cold," his shadow says, " It is not warm ; " let him remark, 
" It is late " — "True, it is not early " says the Count. A 
queer story, Monsieur! They both loved the same lady 
— now alas! dead these many years! but she could onlj 
love one in return, and he was the General. Yet after 
their marriage it seemed to make no difference to the 
Count. He even stuck closer to the General than ever; 
as if his rival had become trebly dear, now that his 
adored one had thought him worthy of her affections. 
He became more and more reticent and melancholy, how- 
ever. The malicious ones even said his mind was 
affected. But that was false! He was simply eccentric 
— nothing more! [ 77? e General ^6^ heard kissing Avt-K- 
LAiDE amidst QniicJi laughter^ in the adjoi^iing roo7n.'\ 

H. Torture! Who is this General? He is kissing 
my Adelaide! [Aslde.'\ 



THE PRUSE. 11 



[Enter A., Gen. K. and Count Du H.] 

A. The GenerpJ has been plaguing me, mamma. We 
must beat him badly to-night at cards, for that! 

M. L Never fear, Adelaide! Do we not always do 
that? He is so unlucky, you know. General Kergar- 
ouet, our neighbor Monsieur Hippolyte de Neuville! 
Count Du Halga, our neighbor, the artist whom all Pans 
has been talking about. The winner of the last Grand 
Prize! 

Gen. K. Monsieur, I heard your pictures much praised 
at the exhibition! A legionnaire, I see, my comrade! 
Ah sir, art has glorious privileges! That which we gen- 
tlemen of war win only after a life of long and bloody 
service, as a sort of recompense to our' gray hairs — you 
obtain while yet in the flush of youth! Still, monsieur,, 
all kinds of distinction are sisters! Eh, Count? 

C. Du H. Right! right! Monsieur, depend upon it^ 
they are not strangers! 

H. You are exceedingly kind, gentlemen! But my 
decoration ranks as nothing compared to those exalted 
prizes received for having fought and bled for one's, 
country ! 

A. O, Monsieur de Neuville, you are too modest I 
What would we know of our brave soldiers and our gal- 
lant wars, if art did not give them eternal life, and in- 
spire new generations to like deeds of valor and heroism! 

G. K. Bravo, Adelaide! Sir, that is unanswerable; 
you can say no more! But, Madame Leseigneur, is it 
not time for our little game of cards? I must have my 
revenge for my losses of yesterday. 

C. Du H. Yes, madame, let him have his satisfaction. 
Once he gets the cards in his hands, his ardor will soon 
cool, I warrant you. 

A. You, Monsieur de Neuville, do you play cards 
too? 

H. Yes, mademoiselle, sometimes. But 1 am such a 
poor player, I always lose! 

A. That is nothing! You will soon learn — you can- 
not help it, — with such veterans as these; who miss their 



12 THE rrnsE. 

meals sometimes, their sleep often — but their cards 
never! 

M. L But first let us taste a glass of that fine wine, 
which comes from the General's estate in Burgundy. 

Gen. K. Agreed! That will give us courage! But 
let us hasten — it is already late! [£Jxeunt.] 

SCENE 4. — A Cqfe^ — Alphonse Latourette, Louis, 
rt/ic/ Eugene, discovered, seated at a table. A icaiter, 
near htj 

Eugene. I wonder where our old friend de Neuville 
is nowadays! We have seen nothing of him for several 
weeks. 

Louis. He must be out of town. Otherwise he would 
surely have been here with us. 

Alphonse. Well, you may think so! For my part I 
think the poor boy is quite sick. 

E. What! And you have not told us! 

L. This is shameful! He will think we have deserted 
him. You are a — 

Alph. Hold on! Hold on! Can't you give a fellow 
a chance to take breath? I was just going to add that 
the malady was one in Vvhich we could do him no good! 
In short, it is an ailment of the heart — lovesickness! 

E. Oh, is that the trouble? 

L. He'll soon recover. Who is she anyway? Not 
that pretty little Greek he had for his model, I hope! 

Alph. No! worse than that! 

E. How! You don't mean to say that — 

Alph. Yes — that's just what I mean! 

L. The deuce! He's done for. I noticed he invari- 
ably used to follow them on their walks; strolling along 
a good ways behind, as if afraid of attracting their at- 
tention. 

E. Well, I wish him joy! I only know I tried fishing 
in those waters, but couldn't raise even a ripple; not the 
kind they're after! I suppose they think Hippolyte is 
now well on the road to fame and riches, and the earlier 
they get hold of him the longer the game will last. That 
old one is a shrewd piece! 



THE PURSE. 13 

Alph. At any rate it will only be *right to give de 
Neuville fair warning! [Enter Hippolyte.] Hold! 
Here he comes now! Hallo! Hippolyte, come here and 
join us. 

H. Good evening, gentlemen! A little chartreuse, 
waiter! 

Alph. Ah, my good Hippolyte — you should not have 
come so late! You have just missed a pleasant little 
story that I have been telling. 

H. Indeed! I am sorry for that, Alphonse! Can't 
you repeat it? 

A. Oh yes! * But first tell us why you look so melan- 
choly. Are you in debt and dunned? Have you an ideal 
that refuses to materialize on canvas? Or is it because 
some cold statute of a Galatea won't melt into warm 
flesh? Come, now, confess! It must be owing to one 
of these three categories! For under them are included 
all the woes, as well as all the joys of the human race. 
Show me a man who cares not for money, for fame, or 
for the love of woman — and I will show you a lusus 
naturm — a monstrosity whose blood runs water. My 
dear boy, it can't be the first with you — because your new 
picture has just brought you a small fortune; it can't be 
the second, because you are a legionnaire and all Paris is 
ringing with your name. Ergo — to steal some of Shake- 
speare's little Latin — Ergo^ it must be the third cate- 
gory. Confess now — what pair of bewitching orbs are 
they, that surcharged with love's electricity, have darted 
their flames into your enamored heart, and kindled it 
with an all-consuming passion! Aha! you blush! See, 
gentlemen, a marvel — a modern miracle! A Parisian 
artist, cetat twenty-four, who blushes like a school-boy 
caught at his first kiss. Ah, Hippolyte! I really 
believe you, when you say that art has been your only 
mistress — and that — 

H. Come, — daw, — magpie, — automaton — mechanism 
— you good-for-nothing chatterer! Cease this badinage! 
Tell me that story — and quick, too! I must be off 
again ! 

L. First, let us have a cigarette! I am all out! 

E. And I too. 



14 THE PURSE. 

H. Here is a fresh box. Help yourselves. 

A. Laferme's choicest! Parbleu! Hippolyte — have 
you already the wealth of a Croesus? Waiter — bring us 
each an absinthe! Now then, to my story. You remem- 
ber how in the park we used to watch that magnificent 
dame who carried herself with such a regal stateliness — 
and whom we dubbed " her majesty " — one of the old 
regime you know — and that beautiful, starry-eyed maiden 
who used to accompany her — - 

H. Yes, I remember! but what of that — do you know 
them? Quick! Alphonse; don't be all night with your 
long-winded prefaces! 

Alph. Tut! tut! tut! Hear the boy! One would 
think from his impetuous eagerness — he was already a 
victim, fast in their toils! 

H. What do you mean! You forget that you were 
just speaking of two virtuous and highly respectable 
ladies! 

Alph. Hear me through, Hippolyte — for Heaven's 
sake — and don't be a child! Where was I — Oh yes — 
Well! as I was saying, these two remarkable women, 
who used to have all the young men, and the old, too, 
for that matter — ogling and staring at them — are two of 
the most skillful adventuresses in Paris! 

H. How! The devil, Alphonse! You are drunk, 
man! You don't know what you are saying! 

Alph. Listen to Don Quixote here! Doubtless he 
has registered a vow henceforth to defend all creatures 
that wear chemises and petticoats, from the barbed arrows 
of slander! Louis, — Eugene — come to my support. Is 
it not true ? 

L. Yes, it is Hippolyte. 

E. No doubt of it. 

H. My God! Shall I listen to all this! Alphonse— 
we have been friends — be careful — do not go too far — 
you have already — 

Alph. Yes, it is because of our friendship that I tell 
you this, my dear fellow! To sum up the whole matter 
briefly, this Madame Leseigneur, and her daughter, 
Mademoiselle Adelaide — 

H. Stop! I wiir have no names! And by Heaven! 



THE 1>L KSE. 15 

AlphoDse Latourette, if you do not well substantiate 
this wretched calumny — you shall account to me for 
every word — for every breath you have drawn in its vile 
utterance! 

Alph. [^s^c?6.] Poor fellow! I'm airaid its too late! 
[Aloud.] But patience! patience! Hippolyte! Bear 
with me a little longer and I will have finished! You 
have been to the Leseigneurs' rooms every night now for 
a month past! And you know as well as I — that every 
evening, without a single exception, General Kergarouet 
has been there with his friend, the Count Du Halga; and 
that as regularly as the hour strikes, he has a game of 
cards and loses just fifty francs! Now, have you reflected 
on this? Have you considered why he loses his fifty 
francs each night? Have you observed any familiarity 
on his part with Adelaide? Do they not seem to be on 
very intimate terms? Does he not kiss her lips, pat her 
cheek, chuck her under the chin — nay, have you never 
seen her in his lap? 

H. A thousand devils! Whence learned you this, 
Alphonse? Alas! I can no longer doubt your sincerity! 
It is ail true — too true! I have tried to blind myself — 
but in vain. Ah, God! What tortures have I not 
endured! 

Alph. And then, too, — the Leseigneurs live well — • 
that is to say, they dress superbly for such humble 
lodgings! They have but a small estate; the rent of 
which would not half suffice to pay their dressmaker! 
And in addition, Madame Leseigneur has a snug little 
account at her banker's; laid up against a rainy day, like 
the shrewd schemer she is! 

H. Hold! now I think of it — Mademoiselle Leseig- 
neur told me once that General Kergarouet was her god- 
father. Yes — now I remember it well! Does not this 
explain it all — we should now no longer doubt — it is 
clear — is it not? Say yes, my dearest Alphonse! If you 
love me, if you are, indeed, my friend — O say yes! 

Aiph. I wish I might, Hippolyte! But if that is so 
— why does he not make them a present of the money? 
His revenues amount to some ninety thousand francs a 
year! Why then does he not give Mademoiselle Ade- 



16 THZ PL'RSK. 

laide an inc»3me of fiiteen thousand francs, instead of 
losinor it at cards? Ah, depend open it, that is a mere 
pretext — there is something" behind it all! And again, 
Hippolvte, have you not lost — do you not lose — at almost 
every game*? And does not Madame Leseigneur always 
press you to plaj"? Come, my dear Hippolyte, do not 
allow your rea>5on to entireiy desert jou! 

H. Enoucrhl Enoucrh! ^fv briin is already ?T>n!Tiiiig' 
and whirlincr with a thoasar - and evil _• 2^. 

I can stand this no loEiger, r. _ .i! I m - -,-t! 

I thank you £rom my heart I You have save«i me from — 
from — at any rate, from being any longer an egregious 
dupe and patspaw. I will see you again. But noief 
Good evening, gentlemen ! [Ejcit.l 

Alph. We must not let him go off alone! God 
know* what he will do in this mood! He may destroy 
himself! Come, let us follow him! \£xKurit.'\ 



ACT II. 

SCENE 1. — Madaite LESi:i»iA kin's apartmenU, — 
MjkDAMS L- and Ai>et.att>e di^yjfcertd. 

A. Yes, mamma, that Ls the way we Yoa 

engage his attention — call him to one =: - -ikata 

picture, pretending to want his opinion — and I will, 
while his back is tume»i, take bis purse and sKp it in my 
pocket. He will never know it! 

M. L iyil you ever see such an absent-minded fel- 
low'? For instance, the other nig-ht when he came, he 
had had neither breakfast nor dinner that dav. And did 
not feel ic — ^d not know it, till I offered h im some 
liruit. Then he was at a loss to account for his sudden 
appetite till he happen e<i to think he had not been out of 
his studic since morning. 

A. And do ycu remember the time he came here 
with his palette on one hand, and his brushes in the 
other, still wearing his paint-besmeared blouse — ^witb 



THE PL'BSE. 17 

neither hat, collar, nor craTat? 0:l q.-i ?re i^o: i^ve a 
merTT lao^h at him! 

M. L Here is a note firom the General, wliicii I ^ot 
todav. He is sodden]^ called oat of town! He says 
that d he does not retom in time for to-n%fat, b? will 
said me a tel^nun^ Pedbs^ tb^t^ hi one fior me alreadr* 
I win go and ask the portrese. Do joa wait, A<l^l^i<^^^ 
till I retoTD- Mo^5ze^ de >" ^ ^ ' * - — 

A. Ii is &lre£ ' 



Ai lasi 



::^::«?' Jss: .-^-e i-':S'i^-d-T-e-d »-ii-d 



18 THE PURSE. 

eighty kisses! Still, that is nothing to you, oh no! a 
mere trifle! Well — may be there are others who do not 
think so! May be there are others who would count 
one second with my lips as worth an hour of ordinary 
time! 

H. True, mademoiselle, true! I forgot! Perhaps 
there are others! Perhaps your lips are common, too! 
Perhaps with you, kisses are merchandise! and that may 
be why you are so thrifty at reckoning with me! 

A. Heavens! Hippolyte, how wild you look! You 
are ill! You have a fever! 

H. Now I have your own word for it! Tell me, Ade- 
laide, do I not look like any simple country lout — to be 
fooled by pinchbeck and paste? I am good game, am I 
not? As innocent and guileless, as a maiden at her first 
ball! To you, mademoiselle, it must be, indeed, re- 
freshing! 

A. Why, Hippolyte, what are you saying! What do 
you mean? You are angry with me! What have * I 
done? 

H. If false kisses are forgeries on heaven — oh why 
may we not detect their signatures on a maiden's lips! 
But no! there they are, just as rosy, as full, as fresh and 
dewy with fragrance, as if they were still inviolate! Ah, 
Adelaide, when first a man learns that the woman he loves 
is false to him — it is as if he who had been dreaming in 
Paradise were to awaken suddenly and find himself in 
hell! I have been dreaming, fondly dreaming — have I 
not, Adelaide? O tell me, if there still dwells in your 
soul one atom of pity, one shred of God's truth — 
whether I am now awake! 

A. Hippolyte! You are taken ill! Your eyes are 
burning with a wild fever! Your cheek is flushed! You 
are trembling! O my darling — I was but jesting! It 
was cruel! Yet how could I know that — 

H. Is it even so, my sweet one? Nay, I am not ill! 
See, I am calm now! I will dream yet a little longer! 
Do you not remember the sailor in the old song who was 
drawn — madly — irresistibly — to the arms of the Lorelei 
— even though he knew death awaited him! 

A. Hippolyte! 



THE PRUSE. 19 

H. Yes, dearest! 

A. When you came — you offered to — you wanted— 
you— 

H. What, Adelaide? I am obtuse — I do not take 
your meaning! 

A. Quick! Kiss me, just once, Hippolyte! We 
may not be long alone! 

[Bnier M. L.] 

M. L Welcome, Monsieur de Neuville! You are 
come to keep us from being lonesome! Here is a tele- 
gram from the General. He is detained out of town 
indefinitely, and will not be here to-night! So we shall 
have to play our evening's game without him! 

H. I am at your service, Madame Leseigneur! 

M. L Well, the cards are ready — let us begin at 
once! [jSU doion and prepare to play. M. L. a?zc? A. 
2nLt some coins in front of them on the table. H. takes out 
an old silk pnrse and places it also on the tahle.~\ By 
the bye — Monsieur de Neuville — I wish to ask your ad- 
vice about a pastille of my husband, that was made now 
a long time since — by an artist who was then of some 
note. It is much faded, and I am afraid it will last but 
a few years at most, before it becomes entirely obliterated. 
Come with me a moment; — Adelaide excuse us! [While 
they examine portrait on the loall Adelalde takes his 
pnrse and^pnts it in her pocket ?\ 

H. Yes, madame, you are right! In a short while it 
will be quite worthless! If you will allow me, I will 
take the greatest pleasure in making you a painting 
from it. 

M. L. Sir, you are too generous — I could not think 
of taking advantage of your kindness. You are so busy 
already; it would perhaps withhold you from work far 
more important! 

H. I assure you it would be an exceeding pleasure! 
So far from trespassing on my time, it would be indeed a 
relief — a recreation — a pastime for my leisure moments. 
Ah, what noble features! What a fine head — how 
strongly your daughter resembles her father! Madame, 
allow me, I beg of you, to send for it to-morrow. 



20 THE PURSE. 

M. L. Monsieur, I could not — 

H. Nay, I insist! 

M. L. Well if you insist — I will confess it would be- 
a very great happiness to me. But should it add to your^ 
labors, sir, I shall never forgive myself. Now, let us re- 
turn to our game! Adelaide, have you lost your patience? 
Do you know that M. de Neuville is to paint a fresh por- 
trait from the pastille of — 

H. Pardon, ladies, my purse! Where can it have 
gone? I left it here, on the table! 

A. Your purse! 

M. L. On the table! 

A. May be it is on the floor! 

IVI. L. Let us search! 

A. Are you positive, monsieur, that you had it with 
you ? 

M. L. Can you not be mistaken? What if you left 
it in your room! 

H. Did you not see it? It was surely here when I 
left the table. 

A. Impossible, monsieur! 

M. L We should have seen it without doubt! 

H. [Aside.] And now to put the climax to it all — 
this open, bare-faced theft! [Aloud.] Ah yes! you are 
right. Now that I think of it, it is in my room: How 
stupid of me! A thousand pardons, ladies, for my 
blunder! What, is it already eif^lit o'clock! I forgot! 
I meant only to stay a few^ momei.is. I have an appoint- 
ment in half an honr. I must be off! I shall send for 
the portrait to-morrow, without fail. Be kind enough to 
have it ready! And now — good evening, Madame Le- 
seigneur — Mademoiselle Adelaide, adieu! [Exit.] 

M. L. What sudden haste! 

A. Let us call him back! He is angry at something! 
Come, mamma! \Bxeimt.] 

SCENE 2.— Hippolyte's Studio. 

H. Most wretched of men! She to whom you have 
given the first ardent love of your manhood — a common 
adventuress! Ah, I see it all now! This diabolic ruse 



THE PURSK. 21 

of cards — a mere pretext — a foil to keep up the slimmest 
of appearances I But to steal my purse with a pitiful 
forty francs I This is the pettiest of thievery! And so 
naive — so unblushing — so ready with lie upon lie — pah! 
it sickens me! To think — deceit — treachery — and worse 
— a thousand times worse — can have its abode in those 
limpid, beautiful eyes through which an angel might 
look forth unabashed! That steadfast, unfaltering gaze, 
which seemed to pierce my inmost soul and search out its 
secrets! Those chaste and delicate features — that clear, 
transparent cheek — now su5used with rosy blushes, and 
now waxen-pale! O God! is it because I have seen but 
with a painter's vision, that I have been so blinded to 
all else! It must be! O thou divine mistress, Art! 
Thou bast indeed punished me for my unfaithfulness! 
Hence forth, I am thine alone! And now — let me seek 
oblivion in my work! But hold! you have one first duty 
yet to perform! He who has shattered your ideal — who 
has so nearly wrecked your life, with all its fondly-cher- 
ished hopes — he must meet his deserts. I will write him 
a challenge at once. [ Writes.^ Ah, ray General, your 
duoe shall be avengedi For each lauah behind his back 
— twenty groans to his face! Yes, that is a fair 
reckoning. [^r<f<gr Axphoxse.] You, Alphonse! The 
one 1 most want to see in all the world! 

A. What's up now, my dear fellow! Ha! by the 
blood in your eye, and the fire in your voice — I should 
sav it was nothing less than a duel! 

H. You are right! Read this! 

A. What! General Kergarouet! Ah, now I under- 
stand! You have followed up the hint I gave you the 
other day. 

H. Alphonse, you are a noble fellow! To what pains 
must you not have been to find out what you did! 

A. Xonsense, Hippolvte! It was common street- talk! 
But I confess, I did put ^ou under rather close espionage, 
when I found out why you had deserted us, and where you 
-spent your evenings. I said to myself — "Now here's 
this great, simple-hearted boy, Hippolyte, gone and 
jfallea in love! Xo warning — no experience — and his 



22 THE PURSE. 

first attack's likely to go hard — he takes things so seri- 
ously! Now, what if he were not to get hold of the 
right one! Ah, what a foolish mess he would make of 
it! And — you see I was right. You'll forgive me, Hip- 
polyte! You have no mother to look out for you, you 
know! And the great world is like an unknown sea to 
you! You have lived altogether away from it — wrapped 
up in your art!' Yes, it is well that you have had a 
"staunch friend or two" — as Beranger says — to look out 
for you! although your first experience with a "gay 
sweetheart" has been rather discouraging! 

H. Alphonse, on our friendship, I entreat you never 
to speak of that again to me! But the challenge — carry 
that at once, and make all the arrangements. The sooner 
that is despatched, the better, — as for me, I shall never 
be at peace till I have either rid the world of that gray- 
haired monster — or perished in the attempt! 

A. You must be patient, my dear boy! General 
Kergarouet is leagues distant from Paris on one of his 
estates, and will not return for several weeks at least. 
Bnt be assured I shall wait upon him at the earliest 
moment and give him your message. For I cannot but 
believe, with you, that bis actions have been a foul insult 
which can only be effaced with blood! 

H. Use your own judgment, my dear Alphonse; I 
leave all to you ! 

A. I shall look out for your best interests — do not 
fear! But let us go and dine — I am famished! and as 
for you — you have eWdently had no sleep last night; 
and I doubt if you have tasted food since yesterday. 

H. Xo — true — I have not! I will at least take a 
glass of wine with you! Ah, last night, Alphonse! it is 
horrible! Could you know what misery I have endured! 
A paltry sum of a few francs! O Heavens! it seems in- 
credible! Come — I will tell it to you — and then — then 
— it must be dismissed forever! Come, Alphonse — I will 
go with you — anywhere — anywhere — to escape from my- 
self and my thoughts! [£J?:ei('nt.] 



THE PUIiSE. 



28 



SCENE d.—A Street. 

\_Enter Count Dr Halga and Alphoxse.] 

C. Du H. So he wants to fight my friend, General 
Kergarouet ? 

A. I think the challenge is plain enough; you have 
read it, sir ! 

C. Du H. And because he has listened to some of the 
scandalous trash that the street-gossips have been trum- 
peting, eh? 

A. Sir, I did not come to listen to your insults I Let 
us arrange the preliminaries without any further un- 
necessary parley I 

C. Du H. Now, young man, so far as the General's 
losing fifty francs each night is concerned — let me inform 
you that in no other way could he accomplish his object; 
which is to bestow a small sum upon the widow and child 
of his old companion-in-arms, Baron Leseigneur! 
Madame is proud — proud as Lucifer! And after exhaust- 
ing his ingenuity, and wearing out his patience in various 
little expedients — all of which were quite in vain — he at 
last hit upon this plan; or, rather I did, sir. For it was 
my scheme originally I At the slightest hint of anything 
like a gift — at the merest approach to aught that might 
be construed as charity — the Baroness ruflQed up in an 
instant; and more than once we were bowed out of her 
apartments with freezing politeness! Nay, twice, the 
door was shut outright in our faces! So, what could we 
do? Now, as you know, Zvladame Leseigneur was one of 
the old regime! one of the ladies at court — and an in- 
veterate card-player! Yes, why should I hesitate to say 
it — an inveterate gambler! For in the last days of the 
Bourbons, every one gambled — courtier, priest, and sol- 
dier—men, women, and children. It was all they had to! 
And it was not held inconsistent with the strictest moral- 
ity! Is it strange then, that a life-long habit should 
still cling with nearly, if not quite, all its old tenacity! 
As for Madame Leseio^neur — she would gamble to her 
last sou. She could not live without the excitement; it 
is what keeps her up! She has had a stormy life of it, 



24 



THE PURSE. 



monsieur. Husband and fortune alike lost in the bloody 
days of the Revolution; compelled to keep herself and 
child in hiding for many weary months! Ah, sir! She 
is a heroine! She has never once lost courage! And 
now in the evening of life, to have this stupid slander 
thrust upon her! Sir, your friend. Monsieur de Neuville, 
does not know that the General has willed his whole 
fortune to his god-daughter on his death! And that she 
will have a handsome settlement on her marriage! Mon 
Dieu! What idiots! Come, let us go to the General — he 
will soon convince you that you and your friend are two 
young, hot-headed fools! 

A. Sir, I am not accustomed to such language! Your 
words force me to demand an ample apology, or — 

C. Du H. Or — or — yes! — or — what! You will fight, 
too! Well — come with me first! And after we have 
seen General Kergarouet, perhaps you will not be so 
anxious! Perhaps it is you who will eat your words and 
apologize! Come! The General is waiting for us! 

[^Exeunt. ~\ 

SCENE 4. — Night. In front of Adelaide's lovidoio. 
[Enter Hippolyte.] 

H. 'Tis long since I have seen her! My soul is 
starved for a glimpse of her dear face! Starved? If the 
soul could die within the body, mine would have long 
since perished! Oh, is it fancy — or what can it be — this 
terrible incubus that seems to weigh me down — this 
leaden, lifeless something that drags within me, and 
stifles thought and feeling! Her voice — that spoke 
always to my heart — with its rhythmic ripple and flow — 
its sweet and tender modulations — now rising, now fall- 
ing — its music thrilling me with rapture — swelling and 
expanding — till it seemed to bear my soul — on — on — to 
some distant haven — where we two dwelt alone! Oh it 
is maddening anguish now to think of it! But see! that 
is her shadow — she comes to the window — she is looking 
out! Dear one! How thin — how pale, she has grown! 
What sadness is depicted on her countenance. My God! 



THE PURSE. ZO 

she is weeping! I will — I must speak to her! What 
accursed lies have they been telling me! And I have 
believed them — never! She draws back — she is gone! 
O Adelaide — though the whole world accused you — I 
would cry it false! false! My love against the world — 
Adelaide! My love against the world! [£Jxit.] 



SCENE 5. — Madame Leseigxeue's cqyartments. Ade- 
laide and her mother discovered. 

A. He has absented him.self for two whole months, 
mamma! What can be the matter with him? 

M. L O, he is simply busy, my child! These artists 
when they have a great work before them, neglect not 
only themselves, but those they love the best, as well. 
Perhaps he has some grand commission — who knows? 

A. True — but why could he not tell us of it? Why 
should he shun us as if we had the plague? \Vhy should 
he avert his head every time he passes the door? Oh no, 
that is not it, mam.ma! I know — I feel — that it is some- 
thing else! 

M. L. Well — I wish we had never seen him, that is 
all! We were so happy before he came. And with our 
pleasant walks in the afternoon, and the General and the 
Count to play a social game of cards in the evening — we 
were a little world in ourselves! Ah, why must he come 
and destroy it all? You, Adelaide, you have eaten noth- 
ing, you have said nothing, you have not slept — since he 
has ceased his visits. You are growing thin — you are 
always pale — and I believe you weep a little when I am 
not l3y — is it not so — my dear? 

A. Mamma — how can you? What should I care? 
True, he was a pleasant young man, and we liked to see 
him; but that was all! If he chooses to spend his even- 
ings elsewhere, now — why, what is that to us? 

M. L. Ah, you cannot deceive me that way, my 
daughter! Well, I will go to-morrow, and find out what 
he is doing, that he cannot come and see us any more. 
Now, my dear, I must write a letter; we have not re- 
ceived the last month's rent from our little estate. I am 



26 THK PURSE. 

afraid our tenant has been sick — he is always so prompt^ 
you know! 

A. Mamma, I am afraid Monsieur de Neuville saw 
me take his purse that evening, and thinks that — that — 

M. L. What nonsense, Adelaide! His back was 
turned all the time. I took good care of that. And he 
is so absent-minded; if he has not forgotten all about 
it by this time, he of course thinks he lost it from his 
pocket somewhere! How surprised he will be when 
he— 

A. Yes, won't he, mamma! I wonder if he has not 
papa's portrait done by this time? Ah me, I wish he 
would bring it to-night! 

M. L. Well, may be he will. But I must write that 
letter. Be sure and remind the portress, Adelaide, that 
she must mail it to-night. It must reach Cernay-la-ville 
to-morrow, without fail. 

A. All right, dear mamma! Do not worry! [Exit 
M. L.] I can act this out no longer! O Hippolyte — 
Hippolyte — now have I learned what love is! It is to 
taste the joys of Paradise when at your side — and to 
suffer the pangs of purgatory when away from you. It 
is to extract happiness from misery — to drain misery from 
bliss! To be tormented by a thousand doubts and fears 
daily! To remember and magnify one little word, until 
it grows into a whole discourse of mockery! To dwell 
upon and distort one little passing gesture, until it seems 
one long night- mare, haunting you even in your dreams. 
In short, love is the tempest that changes the placid, 
gently -flowing stream of girlhood to a restless torrent — 
rushing blindly it knows not whither! Ah, Hippolyte! 
You are cruel— cruel! What had I ever done, that you 
should so ruthlessly pluck from my heart, home, mother, 
friends, heaven — all — and leave in their stead naught 
but an empty void! True, once you filled it, and I 
missed nothing! But now that you have deserted me — 
O Hippolyte— Hippolyte— let me die — I can bear this 
life no longer! {Knock.'] What! that is his— no! nol 
it cannot be! my ears deceive me! I must be growing 
ill— I am already dizzy. Help Hippolyte! 



I'U KSK. 



[^Entcr HiPPOi.YTE.J 

H. Adelaide! My own — my dearest one! You are 
ill! Oh why have I not seen you! Speak to me, Ade- 
lade! Ycta are ill! O God! if she were dying! 

A. Hippolyte! It is you! Where have you been? 
AYhy have you forgotten me — it has made me ill — I 
have had fever — 1 have cried — oh! so hard — Hippolyte, 
when no one was by ! Now, I know what love is — it is 
more than my life! But you! You have already found 
some one else! Some grand lady! a simple girl like me, 
yoa could not love for long! Is it not so, Hippolyte? 
Nay speak — I am prepared! I have schooled myself! 
I do not blame you I I am unworthy of you — I know it 
— ah! too well. 

H. Sweet! My Adelaide! You are a saint! I con- 
taminate you by my touch! I am a vile, unworthy 
wretch! I should worship you! And you love me so! 
This moment is supreme! What is art! What is fame! 
YouloVe. me! And you have been ill? I have made 
you so! A life time of penance will not suffice! 

A. What! Your love is the same, Hippolyte! Why 
have you deserted me, then? 

H. Deserted you! O Adelaide! You have been in 
my thoughts day and night! Waking or sleeping, I have 
beheld only you! 

A. Why did you not come! I have watched for you 
— prayed for you — hourly! And you have passed by, 
looking at the sky or the pavement. Never a glance to 
see if I was waiting! 

M. L \^From toUhin.] Adelaide! Who is there? 
Do I not hear you talking! Have you told the portress? 
Here is the letter! 

A. My mother! Say nothing, Hippolyte! She does 
not know — I have concealed all from her! 

[Unter M. L.] 

M. L. You, Monsieur de Neuville! Is your picture 
finished, then? O, you need not tell me! I know you 
artists! I was telling Adelaide only to-night, that you. 



28 'J"J'^ i'ii'«-;=E. 

had some great picture to paint! And until it was done 
ycu would forget all about your friends! 

H. Yes, Madame Leseigneur, you are right! I have 
been very busy! Have scarcely left my studio at all — 
except to snatch a meal now and then. I have been 
commissioned to paint a battle-scene for the National 
Oallery. But yet you are mistaken, too! I shall not 
finish it for a long time. Only I could stand it no longer. 
1 had to run in and see you to-night! 

IV!. L. That is right, monsieur! You are always wel- 
come! And now as a relaxation, let us have a friendly 
tilt at cards! Come, Adelaide, place the chairs! 

H/- What — cards again! and tonight! [Aside.] 

A. How like old times it seems! O Hip — I mean 
Monsieur de Neuville! [F^etches chairs, and all prepare, 
to play.] 

M. L. Shuffle them well, Adelaide! May be Mon- 
sieur de Neuville has been practising on the sly, so he 
can win back a few francs! 

A. Mamma! How can you accuse him so — when he 
has told you how busy he has been ! 

H. Practising — Madame Leseigneur! Ah, wliat would 
all the practise in the world avail against your skill! 

M. L. Hearts trumps! It is your play, monsieur! 
The trick is mine! Play, Adelaide! You cannot take 
it! My lead! Play to the ace! , 

A. King! 

H. A little six — as usual! You have the next, too! 

M. L Bravo, Adelaide! That one belongs to you! 
Now for the last! 

H. No use! 'Tis yours! 

M. L; Yes, I have won the game! Five francs from 
each; that's not so bad! 

H. Pardon, ladies! My money's in my other coat! 
Let me fetch it! [While he goes to his coat., A. sli2?s a 
new purse., the exact counter j) art of his old one., on the 
table in front of his chair. She holds the old one., fumb- 
ling icith it confusedly.] 

M. L. Have you found it, monsieur? 

H. Yes, here it is! Y/hy, what is this! My purse! 
2^0 — a new one! The very counterpart of that I lost! 



THE PUKSE. 29 

And the forty francs here in the corner! How — Ade- 
laide — you have my old one? I do not understand! 

M. L. You must forgive us, Monsieur Hippolyte! 
One evening, the last time we played together, Adelaide 
took pity on your old, worn-out purse! " Poor Monsieur'* 
— she said — "he has no one to make him a new one! 
Would it not be fun to steal his old one, mamma, while 
he is not looking, and let him think he has lost it! And 
then to knit him a nice, new one, with his initials worked 
in! You engage his attention and I will slily take it. 
He is so forgetful — so absent-minded, he will never 
know what has become of it!" So while I was showing 
you the pastille of Baron Leseigneur, she slipped it in 
her pocket. And now, she has had this new o.ne done, oh! 
so long — and you have not been near us to get it! You 
naughty fellow. 

H. Say no more, madame, say no more! Oh what a 
contemptible villain I have been. What a miserable 
block-head! If you but knew, ladies. — you would not 
speak to me — you would not look at me! Ah, what 
punishm^ent do I not deserve! Adelaide — you are an 
angel! Madame Leseigneur, you do not know how I 
love your daughter! These two months I have been- 
absent — I have suffered tortures! And it is all my fault! 
Forgive me, Adelaide! Pardon, madame, I will explain 
all. But you will give her to me — my Adelaide — will 
you not? No, you can not refuse me — she loves me also. 
It is not sudden, Madame Leseigneur, believe me! Since 
first I saw her sweet face, something said — something 
whispered to me — there is the one woman of all the 
world for you — Hippolyte de Neuville! There is the 
queen of your heart! And for a whole year I worshipped 
in silence — not daring to speak — not approaching you — 
till the day you found me unconscious in my studio. 

M. L. That is enough. Monsieur de Neuville. It is a 
serious matter! One cannot be too careful when one's 
daughter is to be given away! You have taken me by 
surprise! I did not know it had come to this! Adelaide 
is yet so young! I must consult my friend, General Ker- 
garouet ! 

H. Mon Dieu! It is with him I have to fight a duel! 



:30 



THE PunsE. 



iVI. L. & A. AVhatI A duel! O Monsieur de Neu- 
ville! Hippolytel [^1 loud knockbuj is Jieard.'] 

\Entcr General K., Couxt Du H., <ind Aepiioxse.] 

Gen. K. Ali, here he is, the simpleton I 

M. L. What does this mean, General? Gentlemen, 
for heaven's sake, eiplain this mystery. 

Gen. K. A pretty mess, indeed. This young gallant 
has sent me a challenge, forsooth! Hearing certain wild 
tittle-tattle among his friends about my relations to the 
family of my dear and honored friend. Baron Leseigneur 
— what does he do — without waiting to find out the truth 
--this blockhead of a boy, but offer to fight me a duel! 
And if we 'had not drawn from Monsieur Latourette, 
here, his second, what 'twas all ab6ut — it might have 
been my painful duty to have deprived him of the use 
of his brush-arm for several months. Yes, young sir, 
ne sutor idtra crepidam — the artist to his brush and the 
soldier to his rapier! I have pinked many a fine fellow 
who could have disarmed you at the first pass without 
winking. 

Ad. Heavens, Hippolyte — what if — 

M. L. You see, General, my daughter and Monsieur 
de Neuville — 

Gen. K. Yes — T see — I see! Monsieur Latourette 
has explained it all to me! And now 1 suppose the 
young rogues want my blessing! 

Ad. My dear old god-papa! 

M. L. I was just telling Monsieur Hippolyte that I 
■would not — 

Gen. K. I knew it! You would not give your con- 
sent till I had awarded Monsieur le Artist a certificate of 
character! And I suppose I must do this in order to 
prevent an elopement — a runaway match! 

H. Sir, you treat me harshly — but you have me at a 
disadvantage! \Vhat can I say? I have deserved it 
all! ^ 

Ad. He don't mean it, Hippolyte. He is just a 
dear, rouofh old war-doof — with a bark worse than his 
bite! 



THE PURSE. 31 

Gen. K. What! do you call me names, you ungrate- 
ful minx? 

Alph. One word, ray dear Hippolyte! The General 
has explained to me your stupid blunder about the 
purse ! 

M. L. What! did he think— 

Gen. K. Yes, he thought — 

Ad. O Hippolyte — was it that! 

H. Say no more! I shall never cease to feel remorse! 
And yet Madame Leseigneur — dear Adelaide — when 
you know all, you will see how easy it was — how every 
accursed little thread seemed to fall in place to make 
up the whole monstrous fabric! 

Gen. K. Well, my children, I have only one word 
to say to you! Adelaide, since you have got the purse 
— see that you always keep it! You, Hippolyte, see that 
she never has to steal it from you again! And now, let 
us all go and drink the health of the loveliest bride 
in Paris! 



[Curtain.] 



A NEW PLAY. 

No, 1 OF THE Amebic A ?s^ AMATErK Ukama, 



EKTITLKD 



A BOLD STRATAGEM. 

A Comedy, in Three Acts^ 



BY 



MARSDEN BROWN, 



Four male, three female characters; costumes modern; 
one extefior, two interior scenes. This sparkling comedy 
of modern life was written to supply -the demand for a 
play bright and witty, yet pure in tone, » nd having no 
elaborate costumes or difficult scouer^. \,^ lateurs will 
find it just what they want. 

]£i:firy oharmUer <joodl Every niuation telling, 

Prii^ ,15 cente. . 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



Shakespeare's 1 




018 597 468 6 



HAMLET 



aS AliRAXGEliJ FOK TIIK .STA* 



WILSOK BARRETT. 



"Mr. Barrett has here presented the play in the most 
perfect form that it has ever been acted cm the stage.'- 
T/ie ii$to^«, Lendon, Oct.^ 1884. 

'' We do not believe that the text of "Hamlet'* has 
ever before been arranged so admirably Tor the Stage. 
Mr. Barrett has arranged a hook that ought to be the 
acting edition of thejnttire. Playgoers of every class — 
schoolmasters, students, high-school girls and scholars of 
every degree — owe Mr. Wilson Barrett a debt of grati- 
tude for. what he has done for them. For you may teach 
Shakespeare and read him till doomsday; the only place 
to understand him 1^ on the stage/' .\; 

The TTiMireyimdpii^ Octi, \SSC 



Thisedition is printed on good paper with large-clear 
Upe, antl is suitable alike for the student, the teacher, 
ih'tt rearier, theaetor. 



15 ot>nl>». 



